


Draco Malfoy Wore Gloves

by amw53



Series: Draco Malfoy Wore Gloves [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, i've never read drarry so idk the tags my apologies!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 08:05:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17762957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amw53/pseuds/amw53
Summary: "Draco Malfoy wore gloves. Warm or cold, rain or shine, his pair of leather gloves snapped firmly around his wrist."When Lucius orders Draco to bring a plate of food to their "guest" in the basement, Draco finds himself experiencing fear, anxiety, and a morbid curiosity. Just who is the great and terrible Harry Potter? And how will the mark on Draco's palm change both of their worlds forever?





	Draco Malfoy Wore Gloves

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I've never written (or even read) Drarry before. I've never been super into it but I wrote this fic for my best friend for Christmas and honestly got way more invested than I ever anticipated. I thought I'd share it here so, please, enjoy!

Draco Malfoy wore gloves. Warm or cold, rain or shine, his pair of leather gloves snapped firmly around his wrist. Despite the occasional sweating or discomfort, it was worth it to avoid the torturous fights that plagued his childhood. It wasn’t uncommon for young Draco to overhear his parents’ enraged whispers regarding their mismatched marks; Draco often found Narcissa sniffling alone in their study after such encounters. He wanted to comfort his mother with every bone in his body, but his fear of his father always won, and he put himself back to bed. 

Years later, Lucius thrust a tray into Draco’s gloved hands. “Take this to the basement.”

“Father? What’s this for?” Draco looked down at a stale loaf of bread and glass of water.

“Our guest.” Lucius said through gritted teeth. 

The guest in question was the infamous Harry Potter, outspoken leader against the Dark Lord and alleged pit bull of Albus Dumbledore. Draco couldn’t help but fear what the great and awful Harry Potter might do to him if he weren’t shackled in the basement of Malfoy Manor. Potter’s reputation preceded him: he’d had a thirst for blood since infancy, when he somehow defeated the Dark Lord, and ever since then, he’d done all he could to ensure the eradication of purebloods. Draco felt himself shaking and decidedly put a stop it. Lucius couldn’t dare know the panic that coursed through Draco’s veins.

“Alright.” Draco descended the stairs to the basement. This was a test, it had to be. His father wanted to see how he’d fare against one of the most feared wizards in London, perhaps only preceded by his mentor, Dumbledore. Draco wouldn’t let him down. He’d look Potter in the eyes and he wouldn’t back down. He’d make his father and the Dark Lord proud. 

Draco saw Harry before Harry saw him and was shocked to see a boy his own age. Of course, he knew that Harry was only eighteen, like himself, but the stories had made him sound like a man of much older age. How could a boy be so vicious and dangerous?

Harry looked up when he heard Draco fiddling with the keys to his cell. Harry sneered at the sight of him and Draco considered fleeing for a moment. Now that Harry had lifted his head, Draco could see cuts and scars scattered over his face. The lightning scar on his forehead made it impossible not to recognize him. 

Draco sat the tray on the inside of the cell, then quickly closed the door, locking it behind him. He watched Harry for a moment. Harry was motionless, staring at Draco with pure contempt in his green eyes.

“Well. Go on then.” Draco gestured towards the tray. Maybe he’s not taking it because I’m still here. Draco acted as if he were going back upstairs, then watched Harry from outside Harry’s line of vision. He waited for a few minutes, curious if the boy would take the food. He’d been in the cell for a few days now and Draco had no idea if this was the first food he’d seen since he’d been here, but it probably was if he had to guess. Draco warily walked back towards the cell. “Well, aren’t you going to eat?”

Harry let out a lifeless snort. “Why? It’s poisoned?” His voice, though tired, contained an edge. A vibrancy.

“What? Of course it’s not poisoned.”

“Sounds like something a poisoner would say.” Harry looked straight at Draco for the first time and Draco felt his blood run cold. He saw something far scarier than the genocidal maniac he had been told Harry was; he saw a good-looking young man. Draco pushed the thought out of his mind and gathered all the courage he could muster.

“It wouldn’t do us any good to have you dead.”

Harry’s expression changed, if just for a moment. “Oh yeah? What good do I do you now? While I’m trying to bring down everyone in this godforsaken house.”

Draco gulped. “I reckon it’ll be easier to get to Dumbledore if he thinks there’s a chance he can still save you.”

“You rotten bastard-” Harry lunged forward, only to be pulled back by his chains. “When I get out of here, you’re going to want to stay very far away.” 

“You presume you’ll get out.” Draco didn’t know where this new confidence came from- fake it till you make, he supposed. 

“I know I will.” Harry growled.

“Why? So you can hurt more people?”

“Who’ve I hurt?” Harry looked bewildered. “I’ve been protecting everyone from the likes of you!”

Draco’s indignation rose. “Who does killing off purebloods protect?”

Harry looked at the other boy as he had five heads. “What in the bloody hell are you talking about? I’ve never killed anyone.”

Draco snorted. “You can’t lie to me, Potter, I’ve heard all about your crusade against purebloods. You hate yourself for your own sullied blood so you take it out on those more fortunate.”

Harry’s dumbfounded look continued. “Is that what they tell you?” Silence. “Do you just believe everything they tell you or do you have a mind of your own?”

Draco felt his cheeks flush. “I won’t let you play your little mind games with me-”

“So you’re just like all the rest of them. A mindless little follower. Just like your dad. Just like your mum.”

Before Draco knew it, his wand was out and pointed at Harry. “Say that again and you’ll see what a follower like me can do.”

Draco was unnerved to see Harry didn’t do so much as blink before saying, “I thought you needed me alive.”

“There’s a lot I can do without killing you.”

“Do it.” Harry’s challenge sat in the air. One moment. Two moments. Several moments later, “I think your father would’ve crucio’d me a long time ago.”

“Don’t say another word about my father-”

“That’s not a bad thing. Normal people can’t torture others at a moment’s notice.” 

Draco finally lowered his wand and considered his immense confusion. Harry Potter was supposed to be a murderous loon, but, since Draco stepped foot in the basement, he’d seemed remarkably… normal. He’d spoken of protecting others, he claimed he hadn’t killed anyone, and now he allegedly found it impressive Draco couldn’t fulfill his cruciatus curse? Either Potter was right and Draco had been a blind follower or Harry was the world’s best actor. Draco didn’t know which to believe. For now, he wordlessly walked back upstairs, ensuring his gloves were secure.

-

The next day, Lucius asked Draco to bring the food down again. And the next day. And the day after that. The days passed by in relative silence. Draco would bring the food, then leave. On his sixth day of bringing Harry food, he couldn’t stop himself before commenting on the five other trays that remained in the cell.

“If you don’t start eating, you’re going to die.”

“That’s dramatic.” Harry muttered.

“At least drink something.” Draco grabbed one of the glasses of water and handed it to Harry, only to have it smacked away. “You’re going to die.”

“It’d be faster if you just killed me.” Before Draco could interject, Harry continued. “But I know, I know, you need me alive. Great. It gives me more time to contemplate the interior of this cell. Moldy. Cold. Damp. Just how I like it.”

“Why are you being so difficult?” Draco asked, exasperated.

“Why did your dad kidnap me? Why has he been trying to kill me and my friends my whole life? Why is he trying to hand me over to Voldemort like some sacrificial lamb? And why does he send his own son to bring me food if I’m apparently some vicious murderer?” Harry’s stare hardened and Draco felt a familiar rush of panic. 

“Are you trying to say you’re not? A murderer?”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been saying but you’re so far up your dad’s arse that you haven’t listened to a thing I’ve said. Nice to know you’re paying attention now.” 

Maybe it was an inopportune moment but Draco noticed a trickle of blood running down Harry’s face. “You’re bleeding.”

“Yep. Thank your aunt for me.” Draco and Harry stared at each other before Draco abruptly left the way he’d came. He came back moments later, toting a first aid kit. 

“Stay still.” Draco hadn’t gotten this close to Harry before. As Draco pressed a damp cloth to Harry’s forehead, he couldn’t help but think about how Harry could strangle him at any given moment, no magic needed. Somehow, he felt he wouldn’t. “So… you’re trying to tell me that you don’t go around, killing random purebloods?”

“Why would I do that? My best friend is a pureblood.” 

“That Weasley boy? Well, he’s a blood traitor, he doesn’t really count.” Harry pulled away from Draco’s touch.

“It’s people like your dad and Voldemort who go around randomly killing people. Except their muggle-borns so I guess you wouldn’t care about the likes of them.” 

“That’s different, they’re trying to take over. They’re trying to eradicate purebloods. We’re only defending ourselves.”

Harry let out a deafening holler. At first, Draco thought Harry might be crying, before realizing Harry was laughing so hard that tears were rolling down his face. “God, that’s a good laugh. I needed that.”

Draco stared.

“You don’t actually believe that, right? It’s total bullshit.” Draco averted his eyes from Harry’s piercing stare. “Have you ever even left this place? Have you ever met other people?”

“Of course I’ve left.” Draco said, perhaps a bit too quickly. 

“Am I the first person you’ve ever met that’s not a Death-Eater?” 

“Of course not- I mean- technically, yes- but-” Draco felt himself stammering before he fell silent. As he said his next words, his voice was small. “Have they really been lying to me? This whole time?”

Why should he believe this wanted criminal? Draco had been raised to believe that Harry Potter a monster. Evil. Insatiable. Insidious. So why did Draco find himself believing him? 

It was his eyes. Harry’s impenetrable, emerald eyes. Those were not the eyes of a liar. 

“Why do you always wear those gloves?” Draco felt himself snap back to reality. 

“Excuse me?”

“Those gloves. It’s not that cold in here.” 

Draco looked at his hands self-consciously. Should he tell the truth?

“My… my mark is on the palm of my hand.”

“Your dark mark? That’s a weird place.”

“No, uh, my soulmate mark.” 

The forbidden words had been spoken out loud. One day, in his childhood, Draco had asked his mother why the words on his hand changed so often, and why didn’t she have words on her hand? Narcissa explained that those words were the thoughts of his soulmate, which is why they changed so often. She added that everyone had a soulmate mark, but they were in different places. Draco made the regrettable choice to ask if his father’s thoughts appeared on her body. His mother was silent, before telling him to run along and play. Later that night, he heard china breaking and enraged whispers between his parents. That Christmas, he asked for a pair of gloves. He didn’t need to think about the mark so long as he couldn’t see it.

“Oh.” Harry’s eyes glanced at his hand. “Can I see?”

Before he could talk himself out of it, Draco removed the glove from his right hand and presented it. Harry looked at it once, twice, three times, before shouting, “Is this some kind of joke?! Get out of here! I don’t know what kind of magic you used but get the hell out!” 

Draco looked at the other boy confused, then scared. Harry lunged at Draco, which Draco narrowly dodged, before practically running back up the stairs. What just happened? Draco looked at his hand and his heart froze when he read 'There’s no way my soulmate is a Malfoy.' A moment passed and the words changed; 'I’ve got to get out of this basement.' 

These… were Harry’s thoughts. Harry was his soulmate. The great and terrible Harry Potter was his soulmate. Draco hurriedly put his glove back on, wishing he had never taken it off to begin with. 

-

A few days passed while Draco weighed his options. He’d been sending a house-elf down with Harry’s food, forbidding them from telling his father. This time, he relieved Hubb and took the food down himself. His hands were gloveless. 

Draco entered the cell and Harry guarded himself. “You-”

“I want to see yours.” Draco said firmly, not allowing his sweat and anxiety deter him.

“Over my dead body. I don’t know what you did last time but you won’t trick me that easily.” Harry snarled.

“I swear to you, I didn’t do anything. I had no idea you’d ever see it to begin with. Now please, let me see yours.” Draco set the tray down, eyes pleading with Harry. 

Maybe Harry saw a similar honesty in Draco’s eyes or maybe he was too exhausted to care. “It’s on my back.” Harry turned as much as he could while chained to the wall, lifting his shirt up. “You’ll have to do the rest.”

Draco accidentally touched Harry’s stomach as he continued to raise his shirt. Draco felt a strange rush in the pit of his stomach. As he lifted the shirt further up, he was able to make out the words, 'Am I his soulmate too?'

Draco released the shirt and deftly grabbed the keys from his own pants pocket. He unlocked the shackles around Harry’s wrist while Harry stared at him, dumbfounded. Draco headed for the door before realizing Harry wasn’t following him.

“Well, are you coming here or not? I believe your words were ‘I’ve got to get out of this basement.’” Draco knew he had to take this chance before he lost his nerve. He had to know if his suspicions were true; who was the real Harry Potter? And who was the real Lucius Malfoy?

And who was the real Draco Malfoy?

“What, you see your thoughts on my back so now you want to break me out?” Harry’s cheeks had grown thin and his voice hoarse.

“I was planning on this either way but I guess you being my soulmate is an extra incentive. Now, are you coming or not? Don’t you have people to protect?” Draco challenged Harry.

Harry took one last look at his cell. “Can’t say I’ll miss this shithole. Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> As I said before, this fic started as a Christmas gift for my best friend. Well... her birthday is coming up and so is a part two! Thanks for reading!


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